


Twelve Skeevy Motels

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, barest hint of thoughts on, i miss them, skeevy motels on the road, stanford feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: On the twelfth day of Christmas, twelve skeevy motels...
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 15
Collections: Wincestmas 2019





	Twelve Skeevy Motels

**Author's Note:**

> Written for wincestmas 2019, graphic and story gifted to [nevergettingoverwincest.](http://nevergettingoverwincest.tumblr.com/)

[](https://imgur.com/fQ37SM0)

Ever since Sam could remember, the roadside motels they always stayed in when December rolled around had some kind of festive theme to it. Big Pine, Blue Spruce, Holiday, Christmas, anything with reindeer or what looked like a Christmas tree that would fit the seasonal kitsch was where they’d hunker down for a couple of weeks.

When he was a kid, it had seemed magical. Dean had whispered to him that Santa had relayed where they should stay to their dad via elf, since Sam had been such a good boy and thus, Santa could be sure to make his presence known. Sam always woke up to a couple of presents, a makeshift tree and decorations lighting up the room, and generally, there was always snow on the ground and candy in a thrift store stocking.

When he was older, he discovered by eavesdropping that Dean wheedled their dad into staying in such places. “For Sammy, dad. For Christmas. Please?” And still, Sam let the magic Dean wove over it take him in, getting lost in the glow of somewhat working twinkly lights and microwave Swiss Miss hot chocolate with stale marshmallows on top. It was still charming to him.

The motels of course, were always skeevy, at best. The check-in guys were lecherous, the rooms usually had a stench and stains that were best not examined, and no one seemed to question two young teenage boys left alone for days at a time.

Dean had found a new way to keep the magic of December in such places alive and exhilarating as Sam left childhood behind and embraced being a young adult, with his big brother a more than willing teacher.

Sam’s first kiss had been in such a motel. Sam’s first everything, really. Dean had wanted to go slow – “Gotta make it special for you, Sammy” – but Sam couldn’t go slow if he tried. That had taken time, and by the third year of their December anniversary, things were slow, sensual, sexy and soft in ways Sam couldn’t believe they could ever be, given their lives. The days spent alone with Dean in their winter wonderland were the best kind of fairytale. Sadly, Sam knew that all fairytales had to end, and not all of them happily, if you followed the original Grimm stories.

When Sam would get that faraway look in his eyes, drifting off in his mind trying to borrow trouble from another day, Dean would look at him quizzically before kissing him breathless. Mistletoe hanging above the bed was the motel of choice’s grand gesture at Christmas, and who was Sam to argue with tradition?


End file.
